


A Sainted Affair

by Pixelatrix



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Eventual Romance, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Though only a slight canon divergence, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixelatrix/pseuds/Pixelatrix
Summary: “I want to go home.”I want a home to go to.This follows Santiago Shepard from living on the streets to becoming an Alliance hero.He doesn't expect to fall in love on the way.
Relationships: Steven Hackett/Zaeed Massani, Steven Hackett/ZaeedMassani/Male Shepard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is very, very loosely inspired/based on Unconventional. 
> 
> Bioware owns all sadly.
> 
> Kudos, Subscriptions and Bookmarks are a drug that I love to receive. Comments are chocolate, they make everything better. I am thankful for all of them.
> 
> Shout out to my spectacular betas: CelticGrace & MissMeggo929
> 
> Hope you enjoy

“Saint. You’re up.” Willy shoved him out of an alley toward the street. “You know what to do. What the fuck are you waiting for?”

Santiago ‘Saint’ Shepard’ knew what to do. He just didn’t want to do it. “Quit shoving me, man.”

Eight years of living on the streets of Buenos Aires hadn’t gotten any easier than when he’d been abandoned on them at five years old. His mother had died. His father either hadn’t known he existed or cared enough to come for him.

He’d had two options.

The streets where he had a chance of survival.

Or an orphanage, where whispers claimed there was no chance of survival.

He’d been five. Not capable of making a logically thought out plan. He’d managed for seven years on his own.

It had been right before his twelfth birthday when a gang from the outskirts of the city began taking over. Most of the local street urchins had gotten swept up by their promises of better food and power. Saint had known better.

He’d avoided becoming another street kid statistic for six months. Until they’d taken the choice from him. Join. Or suffer. He hadn’t enjoyed suffering much.

To eat and protect himself, Saint found himself tied up at the bottom rung of gang hierarchy. No one cared about a dirty street rat. He’d had no one to save me.

And now, he had to prove his worth within the gang.

He had to do the one thing he’d managed to avoid in all his years on the streets—breaking the law.

He’d never been a thief. He’d begged. His pride had bent enough to bank on the kindness of others.

He’d never stolen. He didn’t want to. It felt like the last part of him would break if he did.

“Will you hurry the fuck up, dude? We don’t know how long we’ve got before the Alliance shits come back on their patrol.” Willy kept his voice low but urgent. “We can’t go back without the at least one weapon. You know what happened last week.”

“I’m going.” Saint pulled the hood up over his head. He wiped his sweaty palms on his threadbare jeans. “I’m going. Just keep watch.”

The gang had tried unsuccessfully to break into an Alliance supply depot several times. Saint hadn’t seen the member who’d failed. Rumor had it the first group had been arrested; the second had been punished by Rafa and Raquel, their illustrious leaders.

Saint didn’t know how he’d pissed them off. He had a feeling they’d sent him as a joke. How did they expect him to break into a secure Alliance facility? “I’m so screwed.”

Tucking his hands into his pockets, Saint made his way down the street. He kept to the shadows, hoping to avoid any security cameras. His heart was in his throat already, and he still had some distance to go.

“What the hell am I doing?” Saint muttered to himself. He darted between two parked shuttles and paused to gather his thoughts. “You can do this.”

He couldn’t. But he’d give it his best shot. And hopefully not die trying.

Behind the main stretch of buildings, the small building held the armoury, according to Rafa’s information. Saint made his way along the fence, hoping none of the lights would catch him. He managed to get to his target without being spotted.

Or shot.

The prefab shed mocked him. He couldn’t bypass the lock. Partly because they hadn’t bothered to give him a functioning omni-tool.

He didn’t understand why there weren’t any soldiers around. He knew they had patrols. But surely some of them stayed behind.

Saint walked around the building and sat on the ground with his back to the wall. “I want to go home.”

_I want a home to go to._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I plan on doing one more chapter before leaping ahead to Elysium and introducing Hackett and Zaeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bioware owns all sadly.
> 
> Kudos, Subscriptions and Bookmarks are a drug that I love to receive. Comments are chocolate, they make everything better. I am thankful for all of them.
> 
> Shout out to my spectacular betas: CelticGrace & MissMeggo929
> 
> Hope you enjoy

Pulling his legs up to his chest, Saint rested his head on his knees. He didn’t know what to do. His options seemed to keep diminishing no matter what he did.

Willy used to joke Saint had survived by accident. He wasn’t wrong. Saint liked the savvy skills to make the system work for him.

When did life get easier?

Did it?

Saint considered the few options left to him. He wondered how hard it would be to stow away on a cruiser headed to one of the colonies. Surely that would be better than whatever Rafa and Raquel would to when he returned without supplies. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Then don’t.”

Saint blinked at the sudden flood of light. He tilted his head to stare up at the tall Alliance officer holding a pistol loosely in one hand. “Please don’t shoot me.”

“Kid.” The man holstered his pistol then crouched down in front of him. “Go home. Go home before you get yourself killed.”

“But.” Saint dug his fingers into his jeans. He stopped himself, knowing the Alliance likely wouldn’t care that home meant whatever back alley he could find. “I’ll go. I won’t come back. Promise.”

“Kid. Wait. But what?” He held a hand to stop Saint from taking off after he’d gotten to his feet. “What were you going to say?”

“I don’t have a home.” Saint crossed his arms. He sniffled a little trying to keep his emotions under control. “They’ll kill me if I come back without…”

“Stolen supplies?” He finished for him. “You have a name?”

“Saint.”

“Saint?”

“Santiago.” Saint fidget under the intense gaze of the man who seemed like a giant to him. “Santiago Shepard.”

“Shepard?” He grabbed Saint by the shoulder, twisting him toward the light. “Hannah Shepard’s boy.”

“You knew mom?” Saint couldn’t smother the tiniest bit of hope.

“We went to the Academy together. I knew her and your father. Lost touch with Hannah when she got discharged.” He kept a hand firmly on Saint’s shoulder. “They told me you went with your dad after she passed.”

“Never met him.” Saint didn’t even know his dad’s name.

“I’m Captain Kyle Morales.” He began walking toward the shuttle behind them. His hand guided Saint towards it. “Why don’t we head over to my quarters? You can tell me where you’ve been and why you were trespassing on Alliance property.”

Saint shrunk into himself. He didn’t want to ruin his chances. “Okay.”

“It’s going to okay, kid. You’re going to be okay.” Captain Morales led him over to one of the seats in the shuttle. He sat beside him. “We’re going to talk then I’m going to have one of our medics check you over.”

“I’m fine.” Saint pulled his arms into his hoodie. “I won’t be any trouble.”

Captain Morales stared at him for a moment. “Never thought you would be.”

The short journey in the shuttle didn’t help Saint’s nerves. He was terrified of going back to the street. And he was equally afraid of what might happen to him with the Alliance.

He was hungry. And tired. And overwhelmed.

“Come on, kid.” Captain Morales shook him awake. “You should know your friend was picked up by another patrol. Child protective services will find a placement for him.”

“You didn’t throw him in jail?” Saint had been told that’s what happened to the other kids picked up by the Alliance. “He wasn’t arrested?”

“Detained, definitely. Arrested? We’re not going to throw a fourteen-year-old kid into the brig. Not when he hasn’t done anything aside from play lookout.” He helped Saint out of the shuttle and guided him into the building. They went past several doors before he was led into a small office. “Have a seat.”

Saint sat uneasily in the chair across from the Captain. “Sir?”

“Call me, Kyle. I know if your mom had been around. I’d have become Uncle Kyle.” He reached back to pluck a picture frame from the bookshelf behind his desk. “Here. You’ll recognize at least one of the people in the photo.”

Saint peered down at the photo of three people in uniform. He gasped when he spotted his mom smiling up at him. “I don’t have any photos of her.”

“Now, you do.” Kyle had his omni-tool up. “I’m asking my husband to bring some food over when he gives you a check-up. He’s the medic on duty at the moment. While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me how you ended up sitting on the ground behind my supply depot?”

Staring at his mom’s image, Saint found the courage to answer. He talked about being tossed on the street after she’d died. Their landlord hadn’t shown any mercy—they’d been months behind on rent when she got sick.

He shared the long terrifying years on his own, barely surviving. Kyle didn’t seem to judge him for being forcibly caught up in the new gang in the city. It hadn’t really been his choice.

Kyle moved around to sit on the edge of his desk. He rested his hand on Saint’s shoulder again. “So, I think we have a few choices here. My husband and I would love to take you in. It’s the least I can do for your mom. Or, I can try to get in touch with your dad.”

Saint hugged the photo of his mom to his chest. “What’s he like?”

“Well.” Kyle shifted uneasily in front of him. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

“He’s not good, is he?” Saint had vague memories of his mom worrying about avoiding his dad. “Mom never said any specific. I don’t remember.”

“Your dad was an Alliance officer named Jack Harper. He….” Kyle rubbed his forehead for a few seconds. “Maybe when you’re older it’ll be easier to explain. He’s selfish and focused on his ideals. I don’t know that he’d hurt you. But I don’t think I can honestly say he’s a good man either.”

Saint had seen enough of adults on the streets. “Do I have to decide now?”

“Of course, not. Why don’t we get you fed and settled? We can talk more,” Kyle promised. “I’ll answer any questions I can.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, mostly because I want jump forward and bring Hackett/Zaeed into the story.

Aside from his mom's death, Saint had never experienced so much change in a single day. He'd had a hot shower, clean clothes, and a hot meal. All the food he could want without having to worry about protecting his plate.

He had a bed with blankets. Actual blankets. And pajamas. He hadn't had sets of clothing in years. He didn't remember the last time he'd slept in pajamas.

Kyle and his husband, Arlo, had been kind. Saint didn't know if he could or should trust them. But he was so tired of being in on the street.

True to his word, Kyle had given him what limited information he had on Jack Harper. More importantly, he'd shared stories and vids of his mom. He'd stared at those for hours and end.

A week went by.

And then a month.

Saint found himself adopted by the end of the first year with the two men. A dream come true. He never felt the urge to reach out to Jack Harper. Something about the man scared him.

Five years later, his dads, the real ones not the one who'd never shown up for me, were helping him pack for boot camp. He'd come so far. It was hard to remember the terrified thirteen-year-old that he'd been.

"So? Are you ready?" Kyle zipped up one of his bags for him. "I mean, I'm not read. Arlo's going to cry. And I'm struggling with this image of you all grown up."

"Ready as I'm ever going to be." Saint sat on the edge of the bed. "Thank you."

"You won't thank me when you see the mess I made of your bag."

"No, dad. Thank you for...." Saint trailed off. He waved around at his bedroom that had gone through changes over the years. "For picking me up off the street."

"If you make me lose my bet by crying before Arlo, I'm not forgiving you." Kyle dragged him into a hug. "You'll do yourself proud, kid. I know you will."

**Author's Note:**

> Santiago Shepard: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/190876493801


End file.
